


what is it about? nothing!

by Kit_Kat21



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Best Friends, F/M, Friendship/Love, Male-Female Friendship, Seinfeld References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 11:19:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19228105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kit_Kat21/pseuds/Kit_Kat21
Summary: He spots a head of red, wavy hair through the crowd and he knows it’s Sansa because he knows her head. It’s a beautiful head.He memorized it a long time ago. Theon had dragged them to a shopping mall out in the suburbs because apparently, they had had an actual Hot Dog on a Stick in their food court (they hadn’t and Theon had yelled about it for hours afterwards) and as Robb drove them all home, Sansa had fallen asleep in the backseat, her head finding a resting place on Jon’s shoulder for the entire ride back into the city. Even getting stuck in traffic hadn’t bothered him because it only meant that Sansa’s head remained on his shoulder.





	what is it about? nothing!

**Author's Note:**

> I don't consider myself a particularly funny person. So why am I even attempting at writing something funny? Because _Seinfeld_ is one of my favorite shows and I wanted to attempt to write a Seinfeld/GOT crossover that should never, _ever_ happen in my mind again. (PS - though there are many things lifted from the show, Robb, Sansa, Theon and Jon are NOT supposed to be Jerry, Elaine, Kramer and George)

…

 

_“Hi, Robb. It’s me. Call me back!”_

Robb Stark frowns. He is playing his voice messages on speaker and he frowns down at his phone with this one. He doesn’t recognize the girl’s voice – but she certainly seems to be familiar with him. He plays the message again, his frown only growing deeper.

 

“Who the hell is me?” He asks out loud.

 

Grabbing his phone, he goes through the missed call log, but whatever this number was, it came up as private and Robb’s not about to call it back. He has no idea who this woman is; even if she seems to know him well enough to have his number and leave him a message _without_ leaving her name. Who the hell doesn’t leave their name when leaving a message for someone? That’s rather presumptuous of this person to just assume that he will know who the hell she is just from her voice alone.

 

The door to his flat bursts open and his across-the-hall neighbor, Theon Greyjoy, slides into the room like he usually always does – without knocking and making some kind of entrance. This time, his arms are full of food, but even that is not out of the ordinary for Theon.

 

“What’s all this?” Robb asks, standing up from the couch where he’s sitting.

 

“Robb, I need your refrigerator,” Theon tells him as he dumps the food from his arms onto the kitchen counter. A random orange begins to roll off and Robb catches it before it can hit the ground.

 

“What’s wrong with your refrigerator?” Robb asks, setting the orange safely down again.

 

“Ah. I’m dating this girl and she doesn’t believe in refrigerators,” Theon answers simply.

 

It only makes Robb frown. “How the hell can she not believe in refrigerators? I’m looking at my refrigerator right now. It exists. Refrigerators exist all over the world. It’s not like a leprechaun.”

 

“Well…”

 

“Theon, that man over on 4th Street is not a leprechaun. We’ve been over this,” Robb tells him sternly. He picks up a box of Ding-Dongs. “You keep Ding-Dongs in the refrigerator?”

 

“I do,” Theon says, snatching the box back. “And I count them so don’t be sneaking any and thinking you’ll get away with it. And this girl doesn’t believe in refrigerators because she thinks we should buy our food fresh, every day, and my refrigerator insults her every time she’s in my flat just because it’s there, its motor running, staring at her, all boxy and demanding of attention.”

 

“Does she know how expensive that would be? What if she wants milk?” Robb asks.

 

“She goes to the corner store and buys a little jug.”

 

“What about eggs?”

 

“The corner store.”

 

“Cheese?”

 

“Oh, she doesn’t eat cheese. That’s a _whole_ other thing. Can I use your refrigerator?”

 

“For how long?”

 

“I don’t know. I really like this girl, Robb!”

 

_BUZZ!!_

 

“No, you don’t,” Robb says confidently, going to the speaker box on the wall next to the door. “A girl who buys little jugs of milk from the corner store is not a girl you’re going to be with. Yeah?” He speaks into the box.

 

“Hey, it’s me,” his sister answers from below.

 

“Come on up,” Robb hits the button that buzzes her in and then opens his own flat door for her before turning back towards Theon. “So she protests the refrigerator. What’s next? Protesting the stove? Protesting the _toilet_?”

 

Theon snaps his fingers and then points one at Robb. “She did tell me that toilets waste so many gallons of water. Especially those who double flush.”

 

“ _You_ double flush,” Robb reminds him.

 

“I know!” Theon exclaims in a panic. “I just like to make sure there’s nothing left behind!”

 

“I tell you. If you start protesting the toilet, our friendship is going to have to be seriously reexamined.”

 

The front door pushes open further and Sansa Stark, Robb’s younger sister by two years, enters the flat.

 

“Well, I knew it. I knew it!” She exclaims as her way of greeting.

 

“Knew what?” Robb asks, catching another orange about to roll from the counter.

 

“That party I was telling you about for work? Remember? Well, I was talking to my coworkers and it seems like they all have dates. I don’t have a date! I’m going to be the only one there without a date!”

 

Robb shrugs. “So get a date.”

 

“I just can’t get a date, Robb. The party’s in less than five hours. I can’t get a date without coming across to the guy as that really desperate girl who can’t go somewhere public without someone on her arm and I am _not_ going to be that girl,” Sansa frowns. She notes all of the food on the counter. “What’s all this?”

 

“Theon’s dating a girl who protests refrigerators,” Robb states.

 

“Hey, I’ll be your date if you want me to be,” Theon offers. He almost has all of the food in the refrigerator now, cramming everything to make it all fit. He turns and plucks the jar of clementine marmalade that Sansa is expecting from her hands before turning back to find a space for that. “What kind of party is it?”

 

“One of the books we published just hit the bestseller list. We’re having a huge reception with the author to celebrate,” Sansa explains, going to take off her coat and her shoes.

 

“Who’s the author?” Robb asks, going to collapse on the couch, stretching his legs out.

 

“Oberyn Martell. Another of his photography coffee table books,” Sansa says as she peruses the boxes of cereal her brother has in his cabinet. She’s starving and the reception will have little appetizers that will do nothing to fill her up.

 

Theon snorts at that, reaching past her to grab the box of Honey Chex. “That guy makes straight up porn.”

 

“ _Tasteful_ porn,” Robb grins. “So tasteful, it’s sold in a black sleeve so not just anyone can look at it.”

 

Sansa frowns at them both. “It’s art.”

 

Theon snorts again and Robb’s grin widens.

 

“Love to see your definition of porn then,” Robb quips to his sister.

 

The speaker box buzzes again and Sansa reaches out to press the button.

 

“Yeah?” Robb lifts his head and calls out.

 

“It’s me,” Jon Snow answers and Sansa hits the button to buzz him in.

 

“Hey. Do you remember every single voice you hear?” Robb thinks to ask them both.

 

“What do you mean?” Sansa asks as she tries to find the milk in the now stuffed refrigerator.

 

“I have excellent voice recognition memory,” Theon nods.

 

“You have excellent voice recognition memory. What does that even mean?” Sansa asks him.

 

Robb sits up. “Alright. But your memory aside, if you were leaving a message for someone, would you leave your name as well or just assume that the person you’re calling knows your voice?”

 

“That’d be rather presumptuous of me,” Theon answers. “Of course I’d leave my name.”

 

“Thank you!” Robb feels strangely vindicated even if that vindication comes from Theon.

 

The front door opens again and Jon Snow enters. He doesn’t say a word to anyone as he takes his coat off and then goes straight to the cabinet beneath the sink. Robb, Sansa and Theon watch as he grabs the bottle of scotch under there and without a glass, he unscrews the bottle, tilts his head back and drinks straight from it. Only once he’s swallowed down a guzzle or two does he look at the others.

 

“You know, that’s a twelve-year single malt. You just can’t chug it, you animal,” Robb says, but he’s grinning as he does.

 

“Fucking work,” Jon mutters and leans against the counter behind him.

 

Sansa doesn’t say anything, but holds out the box of Lucky Charms in offering. Jon reaches in and takes out a fistful, shoving the cereal into his mouth before chasing it down with another chug.

 

“That idea I had for the break room, remember?”

 

“The no-charge candy bar vending machine?” Sansa correctly guesses and Jon nods his head, taking another fistful of Lucky Charms.

 

“Well, I was talking it over with Pyp, one of our other coworkers, Dany, overhears and _she_ goes to our manager to bring it up. Talked about it like it was her idea. She even used my reasoning and says snacks in the breakroom, readily available to its employees will keep people happy and therefore will boost work performance. The manager was over the moon for it. Couldn’t say enough good things about her after he announced to us all that he would talk to upper management about it right away. And you should have seen Dany’s smug smile on her face when she looked at me. That bitch,” he then mutters.

 

“This is why I keep telling you to _never_ talk in your cubicles. Go out in the stairwell or message each other. You _never_ talk with your coworkers about anything,” Robb says. “No one can be trusted in an office. No one. I’ve worked in my office for six years and none of my coworkers know a single damn thing about me. One of them keeps calling me Tom. I don’t correct him. I’m just this guy that appears at eight and leaves at five and that’s how it should be in an office.”

 

“Still upset about the Kleenex?” Sansa asks.

 

“You’re damn right I’m still upset about the Kleenex!” Robb exclaims, standing from the couch. “She asked for one – _one_ – Kleenex and she then takes the entire box and never gives it back to me. What the hell kind of person takes someone else’s box of Kleenex and doesn’t give it back?”

 

“Especially during cold season,” Theon prods him on.

 

“ESPECIALLY during cold season!” Robb is shouting now.

 

“Oh, this gets worse,” Jon says and is about to take another chug of scotch, but Sansa pulls the bottle away from him before he can. She hands him the box of cereal instead. “Instead of candy bars and chips, it’s going to be all healthy. Vegetables and fruits and…” he makes a face. “Soy.”

 

“What?” Sansa is the one to exclaim now, aghast, as Robb and Theon look equally horrified.

 

“She took my idea and massacred it.” It sounds like Jon is about to start to cry now, mourning his candy bars, replaced now with celery sticks. “She took something so good and pure in this world as unlimited Snickers at my fingertips and set it on fire and _smiled_ at me.”

 

Sansa holds the scotch bottle safely and goes to hide it in Robb’s bedroom.

 

“Not to stomp all over your crushed vision, but if you leave a message for someone, do you leave your name to let the recipient know that it’s you who’s calling?” Robb asks him.

 

Jon gives him a look. “Of course I leave my name when I leave a message. Who doesn’t leave their name? It’s not a guessing game.”

 

Robb slaps his hand on the counter. “Who _doesn’t_ leave their name? That’s exactly what I want to know!”

 

“Hey, Robb, can I have this?” Theon asks, turning to him, holding up a packet of turkey lunch meat.

 

“You can’t have the whole pound. I just bought that,” Robb frowns. “You just brought your entire kitchen over to my place and you’re still going to eat my food instead?”

 

“Why’d you bring your entire kitchen over here?” Jon asks.

 

“I’m dating a girl who protests against refrigerators,” Theon answers as he takes one slice from the pack and then dramatically waves it in the air so Robb can see that it’s just one piece.

 

“I’ve heard of that,” Jon replies, taking another fistful of Lucky Charms.

 

“Don’t. Don’t do that,” Robb shakes his head. “Don’t you both act like this is something _normal_.”

 

Sansa comes back from the bedroom, the bottle well hidden. “Well,” she sighs. “I should get going and try to find a date tonight without the guy thinking I’m completely desperate.”

 

“I told you I’d be your date tonight, Sansa,” Theon reminds her, taking another slice of turkey.

 

“Date?” Jon asks, looking to Sansa.

 

“I thought you were dating refrigerator girl,” Sansa says to Theon as she puts her coat back on.

 

“I think her appropriate nickname should be _anti_ -refrigerator girl,” Theon corrects her.

 

“I can think of a couple more nicknames for her,” Robb comments while flashing Theon a grin.

 

“Why do you need a date?” Jon asks, his eyes still on Sansa.

 

“It’s a work thing tonight,” Sansa begins to shake her head, but then freezes and she looks at Jon, her eyes growing slightly large as she does.

 

“No, Sansa,” Jon can easily read her mind and begins shaking his head. “I’m not in any kind of mood for work functions tonight. I’m in a I-see-a-Snickers-and-want-to-cry-because-it-represents-my-crushed-work-dreams kind of mood.”

 

“Oh, please, Jon,” Sansa rushes to him and standing in front of him, she clasps her hands together. “Please, please, please. It’s just for a couple hours and there’s an open bar and appetizers and please, please, please. I wouldn’t be begging, but I really am desperate. The whole office will be bringing their spouses or partners or random dates and then there will be me, _all alone_ , and you know my creepy boss will hit on me.”

 

Jon frowns at that and shoves another mouthful of cereal in his mouth, chewing and obviously thinking it over. He looks at Sansa, standing in front of him, her hands still clasped and her puppy-dog eyes on him.

 

“Do I have to talk?” He asks her. “Because I’ll go if I don’t have to talk.”

 

“No talking, I promise. Yay!” She then exclaims when he sighs and nods. She bounces up and down before throwing her arms around him in a hug. “Thank you so, so much, Jon.” She gives him a hurried kiss on the cheek and then with one more “Yay!”, she hurries to get her bag. “Be ready by seven!” She calls to him as she practically skips out the door.

 

The three men left are quiet for a moment as Theon eats his third slice of turkey.

 

“So, when you protest against refrigerators, is it _all_ kitchen appliances or just the refrigerator?” Robb wonders out loud. “Why not the microwave? Why not the thing in the kitchen that can make you actually sterile?”

 

“What if she wants ice cubes?” Jon asks.

 

Theon shakes his head. “She doesn’t like cold drinks.”

 

“What? Like, ever?” Robb frowns and Jon is frowning, too, both looking at Theon.

 

Theon just shrugs. “Never drinks them, she says.”

 

“So… nothing. No cold lemonade or a cold Coke or an ice-cold bottle of beer?” Jon asks, unable to wrap his mind around such a thing.

 

“She likes her beer warm,” Theon says and Robb shudders at that while Jon pulls a disgusted face.

 

“So the devil walks amongst us,” Robb says while shaking his head, looking at Theon.

 

“What? There are other people who drink warm beer! You!” He points to Robb. “You once dated a girl who literally looked like two crows were her parents and I didn’t say a damn thing about it!”

 

“Not to her face. You never shut up about it when it was just us. I almost called her a crow to her face a couple of times because of you.” Robb frowns. “And she did not look like a crow. She just had… bird-like qualities to her.” Robb then sighs heavily and then looks to Jon. “You know my sister’s in love with you, don’t you?” He then asks him bluntly.

 

Theon grins at Jon. “ _Madly_ in love with you.”

 

Jon can’t respond; too busy choking on Lucky Charm cereal dust caught in his throat.

 

…

 

Sansa has just finished the last of her hair when she hears the speaker box out in her living room. Hurrying from the bedroom, she rushes to answer it.

 

“Hello?”

 

“I’m here,” Jon answers.

 

“Jon? I… I was supposed to pick _you_ up,” she reminds him and already, her heart is racing just from hearing his voice through the small intercom.

 

“I wanted to pick you up,” Jon tells her.

 

“Alright,” she says, admittedly a little confused, and she presses the button to buzz him in. She unlocks the door so he can come right in and she then hurries back to her bedroom. She’s not ready for him to see her just yet. She just wants to make sure…

 

What, Sansa? She frowns to herself. What do you want to make sure? You date other guys and he dates other girls and you’re best friends. You, Jon, Robb and Theon are best friends and that’s all you are. If Jon Snow hasn’t looked at you as anything more than that – hanging out every single day as the four of you spend nearly all of your spare time together – he’s not just going to magically start looking at you.

 

Still, she doesn’t stop herself from looking herself over the full-length mirror, pulling at her dress nervously. Even if they both date – not each other, of course – she still feels nervous like this is a first date. Her stomach is knotted and she feels the slight tremor of nervous excitement under her skin.

 

“Sansa?” Jon calls out as he enters her flat.

 

“I’ll be right out!” Sansa calls back. “Help yourself to anything in the kitchen!”

 

She takes a deep breath. It’s too late now to change her dress or change her hair. She holds out her hand and breathes into it, quickly checking her breath though she can still taste the remnants of the cinnamon mouthwash she uses.

 

Out in the living room, Jon stands by her couch with his hands in his pockets, looking to a picture of the group of four at a baseball game Robb had dragged them to last year because he had a crush on one of the girls selling peanuts. Jon had informed the girl that Robb was deathly allergic to peanuts and just being near them, he breaks into hives. The girl had avoided their section for the rest of the game and Robb had tried to go to the box and get them to announce to the field on the jumbo screen that Jon Snow had an STD, but they wouldn’t do it.

 

It had been an amazing day. Just thinking about it now, Sansa smiles.

 

Her heart flutters in her chest – whether she wants it to or not and she definitely doesn’t want it to – when she sees him in his black suit. She hadn’t told him the dress code for tonight, but they have all been to enough work functions like this to know what to and what not to wear.

 

And then Jon sees her and his eyes widen and Sansa nearly smiles at his reaction to her.

 

Okay, good thing I didn’t change, Sansa thinks.

 

“You look…” it seems like Jon is still incapable of blinking as he takes in her hair – worn long and down this evening with lazy waves as if she’s been in humidity and her dress is long, pink and sparkly, three of her favorite things. “Wow,” he then breathes.

 

“Thank you,” Sansa smiles, feeling her cheeks turn warm with pink. “Are we ready to go?”

 

“Yeah. Yes!” He quickly gets out and Sansa lets out a small laugh. He takes a deep breath. “Yes, we’re ready to go,” Jon says and he seems perfectly calm now.

 

Sansa goes to the closet to get her long gray wool dress coat and suddenly Jon is behind her, helping her put it on. She wonders if this is all because of how she looks tonight. And downstairs, Jon steps off the curb to hail a cab and then, once one stops, he opens the backdoor for her.

 

“You’re being such a gentleman,” Sansa can’t help, but point out to him once they’re both settled in the backseat and Sansa has given the driver the address for Littlefinger Publishing.

 

“I’m not allowed to act like a gentleman?” Jon wonders.

 

“Considering you, Robb and Theon often talk about the length of your bathroom meetings in front of me, I can’t be blamed for not being used to such behavior,” Sansa teases him and laughs when Jon cringes.

 

“In our defense, Theon was backed up and hadn’t gone for almost five days and Robb and I were just talking about it to torture him.”

 

“Of course,” Sansa nods with all of the solemnity this topic deserves. “Thank you so much for coming with me tonight,” she then says. “It’s… it’s going to be awful.”

 

Jon smirks. “Fantastic. What have I done to piss you off where you wanted to get back at me?”

 

“Well, honestly, it was either you, Theon or some guy I met on the subway,” she smiles.

 

“I meet the nicest people on the subway,” Jon comments before looking at her with a smile.

 

Sansa thinks it’s completely unfair that someone as handsome as Jon Snow has an equally handsome smile. Not that he gives it often. He can be almost always sullen or broody – but he even does _that_ handsomely. Nope. It’s definitely not fair, Sansa thinks.

 

It’s also not fair that she has a crush on this man. No, she supposes it’s not just a crush. It’s past the crush stage. But what’s past crush? Infatuation? Is she infatuated with Jon Snow? Is that why every guy she dates lasts for only a couple of weeks before they part ways and she’s single again? Perhaps, deep in the back of her mind, she’s with a guy and compares everything about him to Jon Snow. That’s not fair to the guy she’s with at the time and it’s certainly not fair to her either; not fair that she has to be infatuated with this handsome, absolute idiot and he never has any clue.

 

And who is she to Jon Snow? She’s Sansa Stark, his best friend. And that’s a wonderful thing to be and she still wants to be that to him, but there’s nothing wrong with wanting to be something more to him.

 

“Jon, people are the worst,” she replies to him and she watches as that handsome face cracks into a handsome grin and she feels warmth pooling in the bottom of her stomach.

 

Jon looks at her, right into her eyes, and slowly, his smile begins to fade. Sansa stares into his eyes and she wonders what he would do if she moved her face closer to his right now; just a fraction bit closer, but enough for a man like Jon Snow to know that sort of signal. Would he actually kiss her? What if she moved her head forward and his response to that was pulling his head back?

 

But just as she decides to hell with it and she’ll move her face closer, Jon turns his head away and looks the passing traffic and buildings, seeing where they are.

 

He turns back to Sansa with a small smile and she manages to give him one in return even as her heart drums rapidly in her chest. She wonders if she’s actually sweating because she feels hot enough to be.

 

“Is that Ygritte still working in your office?” Jon asks.

 

Sansa manages to lift the corners of her mouth upwards even as every internal organ she has sinks down. She even manages a nod. “She does.”

 

“It’ll be good to see her,” he says. “I have a thing for redheads.” He’s watching her as he says that and Sansa suddenly wants his eyes nowhere on her as she turns her head away to look out her own window.

 

I HAVE RED HAIR! She shouts this at him – but only in her mind.

 

…

 

“Oh, no,” Robb almost groans as he sinks a little lower in the bench seat.

 

“What?” Theon lists his head from his cup of coffee to look at him from across the table.

 

Robb pauses and then moves himself into the table, lowering his voice. “Do you remember Margaery?”

 

It takes Theon a moment. “Margaery? The one who…?”

 

“Yes, that one. She just walked in. _Casually_ ,” he then orders Theon and Theon, slowly looks over his shoulder to look towards the entrance of the coffee shop they always come to.

 

Sure enough, it’s a girl Robb dated for a little bit of time before she broke up with him.

 

Theon looks back to Robb. “I can’t believe she didn’t believe you.”

 

“I know!” Robb exclaims, still keeping his voice down. “I thought it was just something _everyone_ knows! You go swimming and it shrinks! It’s a fact. It’s just not _mine_ that shrinks.”

 

“A true marvel of science,” Theon smiles before lifting his cup and taking another sip of coffee.

 

“I’d love to find the guy she’s dating now and point a garden hose right at his crotch… Hi, Margaery!” Robb sits up at the sight of his ex.

 

Margaery smiles at him as she stands their table. “Hi, Robb. I thought that was you. How are you?”

 

“Fine, fine. Couldn’t be better,” Robb nods emphatically. “How are you?”

 

“Good, I’m good,” she smiles. She looks down to their table, seeing what they are eating. “That looks really good,” she then comments on Robb’s half eaten omelet. “Is that…” she looks a little closer. “What is that?”

 

“Spinach and ham,” Robb tells her. “It’s delicious.”

 

“Oh. I couldn’t even tell that it was spinach.”

 

“It shrinks when you cook it,” Robb answers without even really realizing his words and Theon snorts.

 

Margaery looks at him with a smirk and then glances down towards his lap before she turns to walk away.

 

“What? It shrinks!” Robb calls after her, frantic. “A lot of things shrink! It’s science!”

 

…

 

Jon doesn’t care about Ygritte. She’s here tonight, but she’s with a date and even if she wasn’t, Jon still wouldn’t care about her. He had just asked about her to try and gage Sansa’s reaction to it. He hasn’t been able to shake what Robb and Theon have told him and Jon doesn’t know if he believes it.

 

It can’t be true. Sansa is in love with him? Sansa Stark is _madly_ in love with him? She’s way too beautiful and good to be in love with him. She can literally have her pick of any guy in the city. Why the hell would she look at him and choose him? He can’t even get his manager to listen to him about breakroom ideas without someone stealing it? He’s a loser.

 

Okay. He knows he’s not that much of a loser. He’s just having a bad day. But still, it’s true about Sansa. She can have any other guy so why the hell would she look at him and choose him?

 

Littlefinger Publishing is a fairly large company and with all of their employees and all of their dates as well as others involved in writing and publishing present, the space is packed with people.

 

Jon hates it. Absolutely hates it. He’s here only because Sansa asked him to come. He’d do anything for Sansa. But he hasn’t seen her in too long and he has no idea where she is in this crowd. She had told him that she was going to the bathroom and that she had seen Ygritte by the bar. If Sansa is directing Jon towards another woman, that must mean that Sansa isn’t interested in him despite the bullshit Robb and Theon are obviously spewing at him.

 

…right?

 

He spots a head of red, wavy hair through the crowd and he knows it’s Sansa because he knows her head. It’s a beautiful head.

 

He memorized it a long time ago. Theon had dragged them to a shopping mall out in the suburbs because apparently, they had had an actual Hot Dog on a Stick in their food court (they hadn’t and Theon had yelled about it for hours afterwards) and as Robb drove them all home, Sansa had fallen asleep in the backseat, her head finding a resting place on Jon’s shoulder for the entire ride back into the city. Even getting stuck in traffic hadn’t bothered him because it only meant that Sansa’s head remained on his shoulder.

 

He knows Sansa’s head and the one ahead is definitely hers.

 

There’s too many people and everyone is talking and laughing and even if he shouts Sansa’s name, he knows she won’t be able to hear him. So he shoves his way through the people to try and reach her. With her thinking he’s interested in Ygritte, it’s easy to imagine her finding some other guy to spend her time with while they’re here.

 

As he gets closer, he can see her slight frame and that amazing pink dress she’s wearing…

 

And her fucking creepy boss who is always trying to fuck Sansa.

 

With a growl rising from his throat he doesn’t even recognize himself, Jon shoves his final way through the crowd to reach them. Petyr Baelish is smiling at Sansa – leering would be a better word to describe it – and he can see the way Sansa is grasping her cup tightly with both hands, holding it in front of her chest as if it offers some sort of barrier of protection.

 

“Why don’t you just get a job at another publisher?” Robb has asked whenever Sansa mentions this man whether when they’re at Robb’s flat, hanging out, or at the coffee shop. “This prick isn’t the only one in the city who will pay people to read manuscripts.”

 

“Because his publishing company is the _best_ ,” Sansa always tells them. “Leaving there to go somewhere else would be a step down and I’m very lucky to have my job.”

 

“Who can put a price on sexual harassment? Apparently, Sansa Stark,” Theon nods.

 

Jon always stays quiet. He feels like it’s never his place to say anything. He knows how much Sansa loves her job, but he has to agree with Robb and Theon on this one. Just because this little leech runs the top publishing company that every author wants to go through, that doesn’t mean that Sansa has to put up with unwanted advances from said little leech.

 

“Sansa,” Jon steps the final steps towards. “There you are. The line at the bar was insane.”

 

Sansa turns her head to see him and she parts her lips to say something, but before she can, Jon gently puts his hands on her cheeks and gives her the lightest kiss. He’s not Baelish. He’s not going to pull her into a kiss he can’t believe she will ever want, but it’s a kiss that will be enough to get Baelish away.

 

And it does.

 

“Will you both excuse me?” Baelish takes a step backwards, his oily smile gone. “I must circle the room and speak to those here. Enjoy your evening.”

 

Jon is still holding Sansa’s face and he watches as slowly, her eyes flutter open.

 

She looks at him and Jon’s stomach knots at what her reaction would be. He had just been scowling over how big of a fucking creep her boss is and what does Jon do? He grabs her face and kisses her without giving him any type of permission or any kind of signal that that’s what she wants him to do.

 

“I fucking can’t stand your boss,” Jon says in a quiet voice; as if Baelish is still lurking around and can possibly overhear him through the other noise of the room.

 

“Is that why you kissed me?” Sansa wonders. Her eyes dart down to his lips before back to his eyes.

 

“No,” Jon shakes his head. She’s not slapping him or yelling at him to get away from her. Maybe Robb and Theon aren’t talking out of their asses as they usually are. Jon dares himself to be a little optimistic right now. It’s not normal for him, but hell. People are optimistic all of the time. Maybe he can give it a shot. “I told you. I have a thing for redheads.”

 

“What about Ygritte?” Sansa asks him even as one of her hands uncurls from around her cup and rests it on his chest, her eyes staring into his.

 

“A threesome with you and Ygritte? No, I can’t,” Jon shakes his head as Sansa rolls her eyes, smiling herself. “You have a threesome and it changes everything. I can only have threesomes from then on, which are harder to come by then you would think. I’d have to dress different. Act different. I’d need a new bedspread, new curtains, I’d have to grow a mustache. No, I’m not ready for a threesome.”

 

Sansa is laughing now and Jon smiles; an optimistic smile. He might be able to get used to optimism.

 

This time, when he leans in to kiss her again, Sansa leans in, too, so their lips can meet that much sooner.

 

…

 

Robb stares as his best friend and sister enter the coffee shop, having returned from Sansa’s work function, Jon’s arm around her waist and Sansa leaning into him.

 

“Just don’t be disgusting about it,” is all he says as he slides over so Sansa can sit down next to him and Jon plops himself down next to Theon. “So, how was it?” He asks as the waitress comes over to fill Jon and Sansa’s cups with coffee and top Robb and Theon’s off with more.

 

“You’re right about that Oberyn Martell,” Jon says, flipping through the menu they all have memorized.

 

“Porn, right?” Theon gives him a grin.

 

“ _Art_ ,” Sansa corrects them all.

 

“Do you watch softcore?” Theon asks her curiously.

 

“I don’t want to hear my sister’s porn preferences,” Robb frowns.

 

“I do,” Sansa answers while ignoring her brother.

 

“Really? Softcore, huh?” Theon shakes his head a little and sips his coffee. “It’s never done anything for me. I like the BAM!” He pounds their table, their glassware shaking. “Right in my face. Always a surprise when it happens, but never a surprise that it _does_ happen.”

 

“What’s the point of softcore?” Jon wonders out loud, still perusing the menu. “It’s just like tease, tease, tease and then… no finish.”

 

“We’re going to have a big problem already if you don’t understand the art of the tease, Jon Snow,” Sansa frowns at him from across the table.

 

Jon puts the menu down with a grin and reaches out, taking her hand. “I am very good at the tease, love. I’ve been teasing you for years.”

 

“Difference between tease and torture,” Sansa quips back with a smile, her eyes twinkling like his.

 

“Disgusting,” Robb mutters as he cuts another bite of his omelet with his fork.

 

“What is that? That looks really good,” Sansa looks to Robb’s plate.

 

“Spinach and ham omelet,” Robb answers.

 

“Oh. I couldn’t tell that it was spinach,” Sansa says, opening her own menu.

 

“Spinach shrinks when you cook it, Sansa!” Robb exclaims for the whole diner to hear. “Things shrink!”

 

Jon is smiling as he picks up his coffee mug for a sip. “Margaery, huh?” He guesses.

 

…

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading! At least this is out of my system now.


End file.
